The Blush Rose
by stick-figure-jesus
Summary: Kira Izuru likes his work. Ichimaru Gin dislikes working but likes his business partner. AU
1. Sign Your Name

Kira Izuru liked his work. It kept him on his toes.

He slipped his handgun into its holster on his right hip, and his switchblade into the one on the left. Sliding his arms into his black blazer, he shook out the sleeves and pulled open his tie drawer, and picked one that was an iridescent peacock blue. He popped his collar, and struggled to tie the neck tie the right way, biting his lower lip. Some days he'd go into work with his neck tie untied, and his partner-slash-boss would have to tie it for him, which almost always ended in profuse blushing on Izuru's part. Looking in the mirror and deciding it was good enough, he fiddled with his collar to make it lay flat, and buttoned his jacket. Another once-over in the mirror proved to him that the weaponry belted to his hips was inconspicuous, his hair was indeed its usual stick-straight blond shag, and his eyes were still blue, as far as he could tell. He grabbed his briefcase and umbrella.

The GOTEI building was close to his apartment, so walking to work wasn't a problem. He stepped into the rain, and snapped open his glossy black umbrella, raising it over his head.  
Two blocks west and he was greeting Hinamori Momo at the double glass doors. She was Aizen Sousuke's partner, and a real cutie. Izuru waved weakly, and Hinamori beamed an innocent smile, the kind that made Izuru wonder why she worked for an organization like GOTEI. He held the door open for her, and the heels of her pale pink flats clacked against the ivory marble floors. Izuru stared down at his all-black wingtips, and folded his umbrella, dropping it in the umbrella stand by the doors. He smiled at the tall, silver-haired secretary. "Good morning, Kotetsu-san. Do you know if 003 is in yet?"

She placed a manicured hand on her soft cheek. "No, 003 isn't here yet, but you're also pretty early. Not to mention he's always fashionably late.

Izuru shook his head sadly. "Thanks. Will you let me know when he actually decides to show up?"

"Definitely. Talk to you later." Kotetsu Isane smiled, and returned to scheduling appointments.

"Later." Izuru echoed, and headed towards the brushed nickel elevators. He violently jabbed the "up" button, and a bell dinged as the doors slid open. Punching the button for the third floor, he stared at the ceiling as the elevator travelled upwards, giving him a strange sense of vertigo.

Their office was spartan, cavernous, and blindingly monotone in color. The floors were dark hardwood, and the furniture was stained a deep, rich coffee color, to contrast with the light of the walls and match with the dark of the floors. The upholstery on the slipper chairs and the chaise lounge was a cool gray tweed, accented with black and white plain cotton throw pillows. One satin aqua blue pillow was set off from the rest, a tassel hanging from each corner.

The one blue pillow was 003's design choice.

Izuru moved to his desk, which was off to the right, and strikingly tidy compared to 003's desk, which was an avalanche of unfinished paperwork. He set down his briefcase, and lowered his black-clothed body into his expensive white Corinthian leather office chair. It creaked. Popping open his briefcase, he removed stacks of paper clipped paperwork. It was a lot of reading and signing, and filling out profiles then filing them away in the row of stainless steel filing cabinets on the wall to the right of the very large window behind 003's desk, that easily spanned twenty feet and went from floor to ceiling. The window often inspired Izuru to take up his once favorite activity, writing haiku.

He sighed an unclipped the first stack, taking up a pen from the cup in the upper right hand corner of his desk. Sign here, sign there, initial at the dotted line. Legal documents were always such a pain in the ass. He scribbled his name on the first line.

The slick black office phone on his desk rang, and he picked it up in the middle of the first ring. "Hello?"

"Kira" was purred from the other line. "You're already workin'? Gee! Ya never cut yourself any slack."

Izuru sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "Cutting myself slack means I'll have more work to do later."

"Nee, ya got a point there. But still, Izuru. Don't ya ever sleep in?"

"No." Izuru flopped his arm down on his desk.

"What?"

"I don't sleep in." Dedication to work was his top priority.

"That's insane! You're sleepin' in tomorrow, and that's an order."

Izuru frowned. "What? But-"

"Arg, you're gonna make me forget why I was callin'. Oh yeah! I'm gonna be late, so feel free to start filin' stuff."

Izuru slapped his palm to his forehead.

* * *

Being 003's partner came with certain advantages, and certain drawbacks. One of which being the instantaneous exasperation you felt whenever he came near you. 003 slunk through the office door at about quarter to noon, and it hadn't been but two minutes after he'd arrived when Izuru was ready to slam his head on his desk and kick his partner-slash-boss out of the office.  
Izuru pursed his lips. "Sir, if you don't come to the office to do your paperwork, you shouldn't be working here." He scolded.

003 kicked his feet up onto his desk, pouting. "But work is hard." 003 folded his lanky arms behind his head, reclining in his tall-backed office chair.

"Exactly!" Izuru forcefully set down his pen. "Now would you please unclip that stack of paper and sign your name where it says to do so? These are important cases! They give us our paychecks!"

003 nodded. "I see your point." He took the heels of the steel gray loafers he wore without socks off the tabletop. Izuru sighed. Everything he wore matched the room's decor, right down to his shoes. Even his coin-bright silver hair matched. 003 unclipped the first stack, and scanned the first page with a frown. He wrote his name on the line for his signature, and flipped to the next page.

Izuru heaved a relieved sigh. 003 was finally doing paperwork, even if he'd have to stop in half an hour for lunch at twelve-thirty. He got up to file away some cases in the filing cabinets beside 003's picture window.

"Thanks for doing your paperwork," Izuru mumbled. "It's really helpful."

003 shrugged. "Still don't like it."

There was a knock on the frosted glass door, and young Yamada Hanatarou from the communications department poked his head in. He wore his white dress shirt tucked into his black slacks, and his tie was a simple crimson. "Hey, Kotetsu-san told me to remind you that there's a company meeting after lunch. This week's cases are being assigned."

Izuru slammed the filing cabinet shut. "Thanks, Yamada-kun."

"No problem!" Hanatarou laughed weakly, wringing his clammy hands. He ducked out and carried on down the hall.

"Did you hear that, 003?" Izuru asked, sitting down at his desk again. "Meeting after lunch."

003 grunted. "Don't call me by my number. It's Ichimaru Gin." He set down his pen, and stared at Izuru through squinted eyes. They burned right through Izuru's skull.

Izuru blushed and fumbled to unclip the next stack of paper. "All right then, Ichimaru-san."

Ichimaru Gin sighed, and frowned. "We're friends, right? Call me Gin."

"G-Gin." Izuru stammered.

Gin took up his pencil again with a smile. "There ya go! Just 'cause I'm licensed to kill and have two extra zeroes tacked on ta my number doesn't mean ya have ta use them." He added a wink, and Izuru dropped his head onto his table in embarrassment.

* * *

_AN _

_Ftchah! Review, please. Concrit welcome_

_sfj  
_


	2. Legit Business

"An assassin...?" Izuru asked, staring at the sheet of paper in his hands. "I guess that's manageable. What's it going to take?"

"He needs to be arrested by Wednesday morning. Does that give you enough time?" SoiFon's sharp feminine voice rang in Izuru's ears.

"I hope so. Is it undercover or are we just going to track the guy and bust down his door?" Izuru set the paper down on the conference table.

"It's an undercover mission. The assassin was hired by HM, I'm sure you're familiar with that name. Anyway, the assassin was hired to kill the president and VP of _Quincies_, the fashion magazine." SoiFon flipped a braid over her shoulder. "_Quincies_ says HM is a big business rival. Apparently HM wants their millions."

Izuru nodded. "Sounds legit. Are you hearing this, 003?"

"I told ya ta call me Gin," Gin grumbled, folding his arms. "And yes, I am. When do we start?"

"As soon as you're ready. Which should be in a few minutes." SoiFon glared at Gin with piercing gray eyes. "His appearance is described on your paper here, and you'll want to maybe stake out at the Sunshine City Prince Hotel, watch his movements. _Quincies _is having a company meeting there tomorrow, and that's where we heard the assassin will be "doing the deed"." She drew invisible quotation marks in the air with her fingers. Gin rolled his eyes, and Izuru shot him a pointed glance.

"We'll get going, then." Izuru said, standing up.


	3. Assassinesque

"Gin-san, please keep your eyes on the road. Please." Izuru gripped the edges of the leather seat, his eyes wide.

"I am!" Gin protested. The car swerved to the right.

"Please!" Izuru repeated, his arms flying out to brace himself against the seat and the door as Gin jerked back into their lane. "You're a scary driver!"

"Sorry, sorry." Gin mumbled, gripping the black steering wheel with long pale fingers.

When they arrived at Sunshine City Prince Hotel, Izuru nearly fell out of the car in relief, but immediately straightened up, and brushed off the front of his blazer. He cleared his throat and Gin cast him a long sideways glance.

"Let's go," Gin said. Izuru followed him into the hotel.

Their eyes were wide open in search for a suspicious man to fit the bill, per se, or the description they were given. From what they'd read he was an extremely conspicuous man, which might not have been a very good choice on HM's part. But then again, he had been described to have a "modelesque" stature, standing much taller than the rest of your average crowd, and he could just be assumed to be a model attending the _Quincies_ company meeting. Izuru allowed his eyebrows to knit together as he expertly examined the crowd. He zeroed in on a man easily two heads taller than everybody else, and he jammed Gin in the ribs with his elbow. "I found him."

"Ah," Gin smirked, which was a feat when you were always smirking. "I see."

He was tall and slim, much too slim, with long, black silk hair that hung over the left side of his face, partially covering what could be a white patent leather designer eye patch. A toothy sneer showcased very white, straight, clinical-looking teeth.

Aside from the sneer, he probably _was_ a model. An assassin model.

Izuru grit his teeth, and put his hands on his hips. "Now we watch and follow."

Gin laughed lightly. "Doncha just get a warm fuzzy feelin' knowing that we're professional stalkers?"

Izuru sighed. "I hate it when you put it that way." He shook his head. "The correct term is "undercover agents" or "criminal investigators"."

Gin walked two fingers up Izuru's arm. "I have somethin' I'd like to investigate." Gin susurrated in Izuru's ear. A superfluous blush rushed onto Izuru's cheeks, and he slapped Gin's hand away.  
In all the years they'd worked together, Gin always kept trying to maybe get in Izuru's pants (Everybody in GOTEI knew that Gin is gay). But Izuru would deal with it, maybe because he felt an obligation to be Gin's partner since everybody else just seemed to quit in frustration or out of the blue, or maybe because he hoped that someday in the far-off future, Gin would succeed, and they could be together. Every time the thought came to Izuru's mind, though, he would hurl it away, disgusted with himself for even _thinking_ such a thing. He put a hand on his chest to slow his pounding heart. "Cut that out." He grumbled to both his heart and Gin, frowning ineffectively for the pink on his cheeks and quivering lips.

"Sorry, Izuru. But you're just too much fun!" Gin's lips were still at Izuru's ear. Izuru could practically hear his smile, the parting of his lips over white, white teeth. He lifted his eyes to watch the president of _Quincies,_ Ishida Ryuuken, walk through the door, his designer glasses gleaming, his white suit spiffy and clean to match his white hair. A young man with similar glasses and facial expressions followed behind him, and Izuru knew immediately that it was the president's son, Ishida Uryuu. He elbowed Gin a little farther away, and flicked his eyes at the assassin they were following, who was just across the room. The assassin reached inside his blazer, and extracted a gleaming revolver.

_Right here?_ Izuru thought frantically. He looked at Gin, and mouthed "Let's move". Gin nodded silently, sobered up enough to assess and recognize the situation. They silently moved quickly towards the scene.


	4. Pow!

Frightened gasps erupted from the crowd, and Gin vaulted someone's suitcase as the "chase " gained more urgency. The assassin cocked the gun.

"Freeze!" Izuru shouted, flipping his own gun from its holster, spinning it on his forefinger by the trigger guard. He gripped it firmly with two hands. "G-O-T-E-I!" He spelled out loudly, and the assassin's eye grew wide, as if he were mentally shouting "_Damn it, damn it, damn it, I got caught!_".

_He's going to shoot!_, Izuru thought frantically as the black-haired hit man locked his aim on Ishida Ryuuken. Ishida looked at Gin and Izuru with bewildered eyes. The hotel patrons were shrieking and screaming and running from the scene, and even Ishida Ryuuken and his just as surprised son turned on the heels of their expensive Italian shoes and made for the doors, to maybe seek safety in their limousine.

"Not so fast!" The assassin shouted, and swiftly pulled the trigger on his revolver.

The bullet whizzed past Izuru's cheek, and there was a small cry of pain and a clink as something small and metallic fell to the marble floor. Izuru glanced behind himself to see Gin clenching a reddening splotch on his right forearm, the arm that gripped his gun. Izuru returned his hard stare to the hit man, who was frowning, looking almost disgusted with himself. "G-O-T-E-I!" He spelled again. "You're under arrest for previous crimes and attempted assassination! Drop your weapon, sir!" The previous crimes part had been seen by Izuru on his record, so it was a legitimate thing to shout.  
The hit man held his gun gingerly between two fingers, then dropped it on the ground, and kicked it away with the toe of his white shoe.

"Ya got me," he said with a malicious sneer, raising his hands to chest level. "Lock me up. And tell HM I quit, anyway."

Izuru motioned for Gin to follow him, if he was still okay. He needed someone to point a gun at the assassin while he handcuffed him. Gin followed obediently, pointing the gun up at the skinny assassin. Izuru shoved his pistol back into its holster, exchanging it for the pair of handcuffs he'd added to his belt before they had left the GOTEI building. He yanked the assassin's arms behind his back and clamped the cuffs on his twiggy wrists. Three gold bangles clattered against the metal of the handcuffs.

Izuru pulled out the cellphone GOTEI had given him, and punched their speed dial, calling in for backup and the medical unit.

"You still okay?" Izuru asked the bleeding Gin as he hung up, eyeing his drenched sleeve. "Does it feel broken?" Concern tainted his arrow-straight voice.

Gin stretched three fingers out; his pinky, ring, and middle; holding onto his pistol with his thumb and forefinger. He winced. "Hard telling. Bullet passed right through, though, so we don't hafta deal with diggin' out another bullet." Izuru cringed as he remembered the time Gin had gotten shot in the calf, and the bullet had decided to be a bugger during surgery and not come out the way it should have. Now Gin had a steel plate screwed into his left fibula.

Two black GOTEI cars screeched up to the front of the Sunshine City Prince Hotel, along with an ambulance. Hinamori Momo jumped out of one of the cars, and went straight to crowd control, followed by 006 Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji, who went to Ishida Ryuuken to get notes on the situation. 002 SoiFon, and 0010 Hitsugaya Toushirou and Matsumoto Rangiku also got out, and burst in through the front doors. SoiFon touched Izuru on the elbow. "Nice work." She said, patting twice. Izuru nodded and allowed the hit man to be taken to one of the GOTEI cars by Matsumoto and Hitsugaya, who barely came to the hit man's waist. It seemed to irk him.

Gin finally dropped his gun, and knelt down. Izuru came and put his hand on Gin's shoulder. Medics rushed in from the ambulance, first aid kit in hand, to help Gin with his gushing wound.

"Ow ow ow, fuck." Gin cussed as he took off his jacket and rolled up his bloody sleeve. "Fuck!"

"We need to stop the blood flow. Kira-san, can you do that? Pull 003's sleeve very tight around his elbow." One of the medics said, opening up the white, red-cross adorned box.

Izuru nodded and went to Gin's right side, and drew Gin's once white cuff very tight around his elbow as he had been told, fisting it in one hand. The flow of red from the hole lessened, and the medics poked around gingerly with gloved fingers.

"Doesn't look like it's broken... This might sting." The other medic warned, and sprayed Gin's arm liberally with antiseptic. Gin hissed a string of curses like a sailor, and put his free hand on Izuru's clenched fingers. Izuru looked at his knees in embarrassment. The medics washed both sides of Gin's arm, and pressed gauze on the weeping tunnel, wrapping it up tightly. They then splint his arm and gave him painkillers and a sling, rushing off as fast as they'd rushed to, and drove off in their spiffy white ambulance.

Gin and Izuru stood up. "I'm always makin' a mess a things." Gin complained, eyeing the puddle of blood he'd made. He wiped a splatter of blood off his cheek with the sleeve on his left arm.

"Better your arm than Ishida-san's face," Matsumoto tittered, coming up behind he and Izuru. "The hotel staff said they'd take care of that, by the way." She put a hand on Gin's shoulder, gesturing towards the pool of crimson. SoiFon knelt down several feet away, and picked up the bloodied bullet with latex gloved fingers, dropping it into a small plastic bag. _They better not clone me_, Gin thought suspiciously, then shuddered.

"That's good." Izuru said, and sighed.


	5. Painkiller

It was three o'clock now.

Gin and Izuru sat together in the back of one of the GOTEI cars on the cool black leather seats, Izuru to the left, Gin to the right. Their hands lay limply on the seats, the backs of their palms touching firmly. Izuru glanced at their hands, then looked out the window with a light blush. _Investigate me, huh?_ Izuru thought, sighing. _Dirty bastard. _

"Drinks later?" Gin inquired in his colloquial speech.

"But your arm..." Izuru trailed off, shooting a glance at Gin's happily smiling face.

"In the Revolutionary and Civil wars in America surgeons'd get hurt soldiers drunk before amputatin' arms and legs. You could consider it a variant on Advil or Tylenol." Izuru hated remembering that Gin was damn smart. He'd gone to college and then some. (Although surprisingly, he'd gotten his bachelor's in botany. He could prattle on for hours about flowers and pollination and photosynthesis, and then some more about the medicinal qualities of different types of herbs. Izuru had to endure it once. He thought back on it with a shudder.)

"Fine." Izuru gave in without putting up a fight. Four years of experience had taught him that Gin was usually right and the best way to avoid conflict was to just go with what he said. "Drinks at my apartment."

"Yosh. Is eight-thirty okay?"

Izuru heaved a heavy sigh. "I suppose so."

The GOTEI car pulled up to the front of the building. Gin lolled his head to the side to look at Izuru in a sideways fashion. "I have a meeting now, then I've to get this arm o' mine all patched up, so I suppose I'll see ya then, ne?" Izuru nodded, and Gin smiled wider. "Also, you have a really pretty chin." A quick kiss on Izuru's perpetually heated cheek and Gin had rebounded out of the car, skittering in through the double glass doors of the GOTEI building. Izuru gasped a delayed gasp, his hand flying to his face. He threw open the door and hopped out, angered at Gin's utter impudence and at himself for liking the peck on his cheek.

Once inside, he gathered the notes and the interview 006 and Abarai had taken, and the rest of the paperwork from the case, and pulled them all together on his desk to make sense of it all. He put the hit man's profile on top of the pile, which told him his name was Nnoitora Gilga. Nnoitora Gilga had been a juvenile delinquent back in high school, apparently. Izuru slammed the file shut and stored the file in the drawer of his desk that was designated for cases that weren't closed yet, and the criminals were awaiting trial. He dropped his head into his hands, a headache forming. "Gin, you idiot." He murmured under his breath, rubbing his eye sockets. _I'm starting to like you too much_.


	6. Cabernet Sauvignon

Izuru rummaged through his alcohol cabinet, searching for something to drink with Gin. He swore, almost knocking over a bottle of red wine, then grabbed it on a whim, and two crystal wine glasses. Maybe he could talk Gin into only having a light drink. Read: only one glass of wine.

But Gin would have none of it when he arrived. "I ain't drinkin' just one glass a wine, Izuru. 'Sides, a lil' bit a hard alcohol never killed anyone."

"Yes, it has." Izuru argued, pouring the dark wine into the glasses.

"Ah, c'mon Izuru. Hasn't killed _me_." Gin took his glass from Izuru, and sat down at the dining room table. "Least not yet."

"Exactly." Izuru groused, taking his own seat, directly across from Gin. "So let's not risk it."

"But where's the fun in that?" Gin smirked, and took a swig of his wine. He made a noise of happiness. "Good wine."

"Thank you." Izuru said quietly.

"So," Gin said loudly, leaning back in the chair. "I like your place. 'S got a beautiful view." Gin stared out the western-facing floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the long skinny dining room. The sun was setting and painting the sky in golden orange, pink and crimson. Izuru sighed lightly.

"Thanks." He breathed.


	7. Purple and Blue

Alcohol was not consumed as planned.

Two bottles of wine and a broken glass later, Gin was sprawled half on the couch and half on the floor, Izuru stretched lengthwise along the white leather of his sofa, both their faces flushed from the burn of alcohol. They talked about pointless things, like the pros and cons of diesel fuel, and socks. Socks! Ever noticed how the black ones never get dirty? Or how the drier always eats the left ones? (Gin swore on the King's Key that it's the right ones that get eaten, not the left ones, though.) Gin cradled his tightly bandaged arm against his chest, and Izuru clung tight to his right leg, which was kicked up on top of the sofa and Izuru's midsection.

"Izuru?" Gin asked in his mellow baritone voice.

Izuru moaned a soft reply. Ohh, the alcohol was seeping into his brain and poisoning him, he could just feel it.

"You like me." He spoke with resolution, as if he were stating a well-known fact.

Izuru was taken aback, and his face blushed a deeper red. "No, I don't." He said with a bashful turn of his chin, so he was speaking into the back of the couch. "I never said I did." His fingers curled a fistful of Gin's stone gray slacks.

Gin laughed melodically. "Don' think I don' see th' way ya act 'round me. Ya never blush 'round Hinamori-kun 'r Kotetsu 'r Rangiku-chan. Ya don' even blush 'round any th' other men. Jus' me. Jus' me." He repeated for emphasis.

"I _don't_ like you." Izuru huffed.

"Ya don' like me? Ya do too. Ya jus' don' love me." Gin swung his other leg gently into Izuru's lap.

Izuru caught his other leg and held onto it tightly. "I don't love you."

"Your hands are shaking."

Izuru pulled his hands away from Gin's legs. "No, they're not."

In a flash of movement Gin's legs were gone and he was kneeling beside the couch. He grasped one of Izuru's hands very firmly. Aqua eyes bored straight through Prussian blue ones. "Don't lie to me, Izuru."

Izuru tried frantically to pull his hand away from Gin, but even his left hand was much, much stronger than Izuru had anticipated. "I'm not lying." His voice broke on the last word. "I'm not."  
Gin stared at the floor. "An' t' think I was pursing someone I'd thought might've loved me in return." He said after a pregnant pause.

Izuru's heart was thundering his his chest now, and he could feel his boiling pulse beneath his temples, in his neck and in his wrists. His knuckles were white as he gripped Gin's hand, giving up on trying to pull it away. _Love him in return_? Gin dropped Izuru's hand and swiftly stood up, and disappeared to the kitchen. Izuru curled in on himself as he heard a cabinet open and the clink of glass bottles as they were moved to the side. He peered over the back of the couch to witness Gin slugging some kind of liquor straight from the bottle and slam it down on the dining table. Gin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared hard at the floor for a long time. After a few minutes Gin reached out for the bottle and took another swig and set it back down. His arms hung limply at his sides.

Slowly, Izuru stood up and made his way to the dining room to stand before Gin. He hung his head shamefully. "Look, Gin-san. I'm sorry I disappointed you."

Izuru gasped as Gin suddenly appeared inches away from him, Gin's free hand wrapping tightly around his arm, just above the elbow. The other's fingers brushed the crook of Izuru's elbow, and Gin took a step closer, closing the gap between them so that their chests were touching and their knees bumped together. He dipped his head down and caught Izuru in an aggressive lip lock, forcing him to hold his head high. Izuru grimaced at the taste of vodka on Gin's lips.

"Gin?" Izuru whimpered, trying to pull away as Gin caught him in another kiss. The end of Gin's name was drowned by Gin's lips.

"Izuru," Gin moaned softly. Izuru clenched his teeth as Gin's feather-soft lips kissed a trail down his neck and onto his collarbone. "Izuru." Izuru's name ghosted across his chilly pale skin. He shivered and stared up at the ceiling, trying hard to ignore Gin's movements as best he could. Gin stepped forward, pushing Izuru in reverse towards the living room until Izuru's backside hit the back of the leather sofa. Gin's hands slid up under the hem of the dark purple t-shirt Izuru had changed into before Gin had arrived, and Izuru gasped lightly, his hands flying up to hover just above his hips.

"Um." Izuru said as Gin's hands slid around to rest on the small of Izuru's back. Gin drug Izuru down to the floor, sitting lightly in Izuru's lap. He trapped Izuru in another kiss. "Stop-" Izuru wheezed when Gin had pulled away for a moment. Izuru placed his hands firmly on Gin's chest, and pushed, hoping to shove the intoxicated man off his lap. Gin only seized Izuru's neck just below his chin.

"Liar," Gin whispered in a husky voice. "Ya like me." He kissed Izuru again.

Izuru slapped Gin as hard as he could. Gin's head snapped back, then forth, his eyes large and pools of ocean. He immediately stared downward, and his shoulders drooped. His pale ivory fingers still gripped Izuru's neck, and it was making it difficult for Izuru to breathe. "Stop." He repeated. "Maybe I do love you. But it's hard to love anybody who forces themself on you." Izuru clutched the hand around his neck with shaking fingers. "Let me" -_gasp_- "go." His voice was shaking, as well. Gin's fingers loosened, and he dropped his hold on Izuru's neck. "Look at me," Izuru demanded. Gin looked up with sad, inebriated blue eyes, and Izuru threw his arms around Gin's shoulders, burying his warm face in the crook of Gin's neck. Gin tensed, then wrapped his lank left arm around Izuru's waist, leaving the one in a cast off to the side. "Don't screw up." Izuru whispered. Gin nodded against the crown of Izuru's head as he was allowed to worm his cold fingers into the waistband of Izuru's jeans.


	8. Slow Jolt

Izuru jolted awake, his eyes wide but his head fuzzy as he sat up. He looked around his spacious bedroom, then at the jumble of sheets on his bed, taking in the person-sized indent to his right. He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath as he remembered his own body pressed against another skinny, muscular, silver body under his thick comforter. He peeked at the indent again, and noticed a slip of paper. Carefully he pulled it out from underneath his down comforter, and unfolded it. _Gone to store for cigarettes. Called in sick for you at work. Maybe I'll check in later. –Gin_ It read. Izuru set it next to him on the bed, very slowly, and laid back down. _I think maybe I really _am_ sick, _he thought, his stomach performing an intricate gymnastics routine. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his fingers drifting to brush his lips. They were warm, as though they'd just been kissed. Izuru imagined Gin leaning over him as he slept and kissing him sweetly on the lips, like a scene from Sleeping Beauty. _Does that make me a princess?_ Izuru wondered, and his stomach flopped one last time before settling.


	9. Don't Awaken

Gin stuffed the cigarettes he just purchased into the pocket of his leather jacket, and huffed. _I know I shouldn't be smoking. Izuru might not like it._ Gin paused, then wanted to kick himself in the groin. _Shit, I'm making it sound like he's my wife. _He threw open the door to his car, and flopped in. He felt so bad for last night, and cursed his inability to just _say _things. Jamming the key in the ignition and starting up his car, he pulled into traffic and swerved violently around several cars. "I'm coming to check on you." He said aloud, and rolled down his window and lit up a cigarette.

Puffing smoke out the window and tapping the last of the ashes off his cigarette, Gin pulled up to Izuru's apartment building. He got out and stomped in to the lobby, checking to make sure Izuru's key was still in his pocket. He'd swiped it before he'd left, so he could get back inside if he needed to. As soon as he jabbed the up button for the elevator, it dinged and the doors slid open with a muted hiss.

Awkward elevator rides up to the eighth floor with sweaty women Gin didn't know was always a rush of adrenaline in and of itself. He ducked out as soon as the doors were open wide enough for him to fit through, his heart pounding. Izuru's apartment was just to the left and three doors down, apartment two-thirty-five. Gin fit the key into the lock and turned.

The door clicked open and he stepped inside, closing the door on a rotund man with his rotund wife who were staring, slack jawed and red faced, at the strange man entering the nice Izuru's apartment with a key that was obviously not a copy. (Gin had taken Izuru's entire key ring.) Gin's eyes swept over the apartment, noting that there were no obvious signs of Izuru having gotten up. He slid open the pocket door leading into Izuru's eggshell white bedroom, and shut it behind himself, creeping up to the still sleeping Izuru. Upon closer inspection, Gin realized that Izuru had actually woken up and read his note, then fallen back to sleep with his fingers still barely clutching the note paper. Gin sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and pushed a just few strands of flaxen hair off of Izuru's furrowed brow. Izuru let out a soft sigh of a breath between parted lips. Gin leant down to catch another taste of Izuru's warm breath with a graze of his own pale lips, and Izuru's eyes fluttered open. This time, they looked a pale porcelain blue when caught in the wash of bright mid-day sunlight that was filtering in through the large window. _Don't say anythin', don't say anythin'. _Gin urged himself, standing up very straight and towering over Izuru. _Just leave, ya don't want to make things worse_. He turned on his heel and ghosted silently out the door and out to the hallway, where he turned around and pressed his back to Izuru's front door. The pudgy husband and wife were still there, apparently waiting for the strange man to come out again. And he had, embarrassed and flustered.

"Excuse me," the wife who had been watching said, and Gin whipped his head up. "Kira-kun is okay, right? He didn't leave for work this morning." The woman clutched her husband's beefy arm.

Gin shrugged. "I wouldn't know if he's okay, ma'am." He said, his voice catching as he teared up. "He been sleepin' all day an' I think he's mad at me for last night." He furiously wiped away the tears that were pooling in the corners of his eyes. "But I love 'im so much, and I jus' don' know how ta tell him." The tears flowed freely now. "We been partners at work fer so many years now and sometimes I don't even wanna show up because he's there, and sometimes it's hard t' be around 'im. An' I screwed up on our assignment yesterday an' went an' got meself shot, an' I know 'e worries fer me, and that was just another thing on top a the pile." Gin rubbed his face with his unbandaged hand.

"Oh, dear." The woman patted her husband's arm. "Oh, there, there, child. Things will be all right." She turned to her husband. "What do we do, sweetie?"

"I don't know, Miyuki."

"Are you going to be okay, dear?" The older woman called Miyuki asked.

Gin shook his head, and the woman handed him a handkerchief. He blotted at his watery eyes with it.

"You can keep it. Take care now, you hear?" Gin nodded and slid his back down Izuru's door until he was sitting with his knees pulled tight to his chest. Miyuki and her husband drifted off toward their own apartment. Gin fell over on his side as soon as the old couple was gone and wiped away what he hoped to be his final tear for that day.


	10. Blush Pink Rose

Izuru didn't go into work all that week, as he was house-bound with a fever and no voice to speak of. Saturday dragged until there was a knock on the door around three. Izuru pulled himself off the couch, and went to the door, rubbing one sleepy eye. He opened the door.

Gin was on his doorstep, staring hard at the ground, shoulders hunched, hands behind his back. "Here." He thrust a rose and an envelope at Izuru.

Izuru stared at them, then took them from Gin's trembling hands. Gin turned on his heel and raced away. Izuru opened his mouth to tell him to wait in a raspy voice, but he was already gone. He looked at the rose in his hand. It was the palest blush pink, with a long stem and three leaves. It smelled wonderful, or at least, he hoped it did. His nose was currently out of commission, and stuffed up with sinus pressure.

Izuru shut the door with his foot, and made his way to the kitchen, very slowly, to put the rose in water so it wouldn't die. He dropped the envelope addressed to him in plain handwriting on his dining room table, and rummaged for a vase. Filling a thin cylindrical glass vase with water, he put the single bloom in, and set it in front of himself at the dining room table as he sat down to read what was in the envelope.

"_Zuru_,"

Was scrawled oh-so eloquently at the top of a piece of printer paper with a fountain pen. Izuru recognized the dark, dark almost-black blue ink as the kind Gin preferred to use.

"_Sorry. About that night. It's so hard for me to explain my feelings sometimes, so I figured I might just show you. I didn't think you'd react the way you did, since I thought that maybe you felt some of the same feelings._

We've been partners for a long time now, I realize. And I don't mean to make things difficult for you by being obstinate about work and such, but it's just so much fun to tease you, to see that little blush you get." Izuru blushed at this. "_I really hope we can go back to that business relationship we once had. I'd be happy with just sitting in the office with you. Doing work. Imagine that, huh?_

Unless you'd like to try again.

I know I'm more than willing." 

Izuru frowned slightly, then pulled one corner of his mouth back in a half-smile. The letter was signed with a heart and the effortless scribble "_Gin_".

He folded it up again, and just as he was about to put it back in its envelope, he noticed something more scribbled on the back. He flipped it over. "_P.S. love you? Call me_" Izuru quickly stuffed it back into the envelope, his face turning dark red. He threw it to the other end of the table, where it slid off the edge and flopped to the floor. Dropping his head onto the dark wood dining table, Izuru heaved a heavy sigh. _Yeah, like hell I'll call you. I can't even speak right now._ He decided he'd talk to Gin at work on Monday, if he was well enough.

So that night he knocked himself out with green tea, Nyquil and three Tylenol and went to bed exactly at nine, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	11. Try The Odd Again?

Izuru tugged on the knot of his wisteria-purple tie, situating it just right on his collar. Buttoning the buttons of his favorite black blazer, he made sure his weaponry was incognito as he did every day, and grabbed his brief case off his bed and his umbrella from the stand by the door. It was raining again. He waved cheerily to Miyuki-san from five doors down and across the hall, and she waved back with a suspicious look. She called to Izuru. "Kira-kun, I've been meaning to ask you something." She moseyed up the hall towards where Izuru had stopped. "A couple days ago there was a man with silver hair who entered your apartment with your keys, and I was wondering if you were aware of that. He wasn't in for long, but when he came back out he began to cry like a little baby!" She took a sip of her coffee, raising her dark eyebrows.

"I'm aware of that." Izuru said slowly, his faint smile drooping. He cast a glance at the worn-down carpet of the hall.

"Oh, good." Miyuki's voice was uncertain and strained. "He also said he loved you."

"I know, ma'am. I know." Izuru nodded and turned to head for the elevators. "He told me so."

Miyuki-san stared in bewilderment as Izuru turned and left.

"Have a nice day, Miyuki-san." He called over his shoulder as he pushed the down button for the elevator. He got on with two other people heading to work.

Today he met Matsumoto Rangiku at the door. He held it open for her in a gentlemanly fashion, and she smiled sweetly in thanks. But once inside she leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Gin worried about you all last week. He called me thirteen times. Will you talk to him? Let him know you're not mad at him?" Izuru turned a bright fuchsia.

He nodded wordlessly.

"Good." She patted him on the shoulder, and hung a right in the hallway to head towards the communications department. _Oh, shit._ Izuru thought, and whacked the back of his head trying to lean against the wall in the elevator with his skewed sense of depth perception.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors _whooshed_ open, and Izuru stumbled out, rubbing the back of his head. He pushed down on the handle of the door to their office, and shoved the door open with his shoulder. He stopped at the sight of Gin leaning low over his desk scribbling intelligently on important documents. Gin lifted his chin, then broke into a wide smile of relief. Izuru's heart jumped into his throat. He didn't think it would be this hard to confront Gin again.

Gin slowly stood up from his desk, and Izuru almost staggered backwards at how foreboding the image looked. A silver haired man dressed in a black suit with a tie the color of dried blood standing before a window framing a piece of dismal, rainy skies. Lighting cracked the sky, and Gin was momentarily cast in odd shadows, distorting his soft expression into one of sneering malice. Izuru's heart skipped a beat or three. "Izuru." Gin breathed, rushing around his desk to shut the door behind Izuru, then embrace him from behind, wrapping nimble arms around his skinny waist. Izuru dropped his briefcase on the ground with a loud thud. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Izuru's throat closed up. "Yes. I'm mad." He was. How could Gin spring something like that on him after years of working together? It was rude and… strange. Unfamiliar. It made Izuru feel off-kilter and un-centered, like he was meddling in things considered "dirty", "nefarious", or "oily". Made him want to take a three hour long shower and scrub himself clean of all the lewd thoughts he might've thought or will think. He clenched his jaw and his hands into fists. "I'm mad that you didn't say anything before… then. But- I don't know. I mean, I guess I…"

"Guess what?" Gin asked into Izuru's collar.

"I'm just so confused right now." Izuru let his sheet of blond hair fall over his face.

"I suppose I should leave ya alone, then."

Izuru nodded, and Gin let his arms slide from around Izuru's waist. But Izuru caught him by the wrists and held tight. "That's not what I meant." He hung his head. "Don't go away. I just need some space and time to sort things out in my head."

"But you had all week."

"I was sick, I couldn't think straight or talk at all! I spent a lot of time sleeping."

Gin fell silent, and Izuru still gripped his wrists.

"So are we just going to be business partners?" Gin asked after what seemed like an eternity.

"I don't know."

"You're going to quit?" Desperation tainted Gin's voice. Izuru shook his head slowly. "You're not?" He continued to shake his head. "That means-" Izuru heard Gin's sharp intake for breath. "You're… willing ta try again."


End file.
